Our Cartography
by Rashaka
Summary: Can people spend days talking and never really say anything to each other? Communication is hard, and it might take two trapped teenagers a thousand different conversations to find the one that works.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Our Cartography

**Summary:** Getting stranded on a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean was only the beginning of Zuko and Katara's problems.

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**Prologue**

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High above the coast of the Earth Kingdom, three children rode on the back of a bison—

No, that's boring.

Terrible way to start a story.

Fast forward—

The pirate ship tacked westward, painted prow embarking on a collision course with the Fire Navy vessel. From the deck a young man screamed at his lieutenant to ready the catapults—

Something's just not right there either.

Everyone loves pirates, but that's not what this story is about.

Try again—

The middle of a fight. The sun beat down on a tiny lifeboat floating on an infinite expanse of seawater. There was no sound but that of a boy and a girl who stood facing each other and shouting. The prince (a few pirates short of his Fire Navy crew) and the waterbender (a couple companions short of her bison) were having a rousing philosophical argument, the first of many to come.

And here is where our tale really begins.


	2. The Sea: Scene 1

**Act 1**

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**The Sea**

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**Scene 1**

"It's about _honor!_ Something your ill-bred provincial mind couldn't possibly understand! I have a sworn duty to take the Avatar back to the Fire Nation!"

"You're just a puppet!" Katara shouted. "This isn't about anyone's honor! This is about war! We're trying to save the world for everyone and you're nothing more than misguided child on a wild goose chase whose idiot of a father gave him an entire _navy_ ship to play captain with!"

"Shut up!" He reached out without thinking and _pushed_. Katara's body arched wildly backward over the side of the lifeboat like a slow-falling tree; with a crash she hit the water and disappeared.

Still standing in the little boat, Zuko gaped for a moment, stunned at his lack of self-control. He waited for her to come back up so he could scream at her some more, and—if he was feeling particularly generous—maybe apologize.

The problem was she wasn't coming back up.

"Don't be silly. She's a Waterbender," he said aloud to the otherwise empty raft. He waited some more, scanning the surface in case she'd drifted away.

Nothing. Not for miles.

_Shit,_ Zuko thought, counting up the time in his head. She'd been down almost thirty seconds. Waterbenders were good swimmers; if she were conscious he could wait another three minutes at least. If she'd somehow passed out three minutes would drown her.

_I'd have more water if she died._

His heart almost stopped at the insidious little thought.

_No. _

Taking a deep breath, the prince plunged overboard. Guilt was one thing Zuko had enough of already.

It seemed to take forever for his eyes to adjust to the pain of the salt. The stinging in his left eye was so intense he had to keep it shut, further warping his depth perception. Finally, after an agonizing period, he was able to see somewhat. The ocean that he saw was clear, and cold, and empty.

_What have I done?_

Something clutched his shoulder. Zuko gasped, lost half his air, and barely avoided swallowing seawater. Furiously he spun in place, arm swinging violently toward his phantom attacker.

The phantom floated a few feet away from him, hands holding onto the raft from below, watching him through the water. She didn't appear to have any difficulty holding her breath, either.

_Bitch!_

With a roar that neither could hear, Zuko expelled the last of his air and kicked to the surface. He hauled himself over the edge of the lifeboat and waited, seething quietly. Not too long after, Katara rejoined him.

Both soaking wet, they stared at each other across the tiny vessel.

Zuko was used to being angry or disappointed in people, so he felt he had the natural right to go first. "What the hell were you playing at?"

Katara raised her head, almost pointing her chin at him. "You pushed me."

"You're a Waterbender! It's not like it was going to hurt you!"

"Liar. You weren't even thinking at the time."

"Why did you hide down there? That's not funny, why did you do that!"

The girl lifted her eyebrows in challenge, but her words came out low and accusing. "I wanted to see if you would come and get me. If there _was_ even a drop of honor left in the Fire Nation."

Zuko dropped his glare to the bottom of the boat, staring at the wood floor between their feet. "Don't ever play games with me," he said, softer this time. "I'm the prince of the Fire Nation. I could kill you right now if I wanted to, and it would cost me nothing. _Nothing._"

Katara was still for a moment, then eventually replied: "Yes, it would." The fight in her voice was gone, and her eyesgrew dull and sad as she stared into him. "It would cost you Aang."

"There you're mistaken. Having you out of the way would only make capturing him easier."

"That's not what I meant."


	3. The Sea: Scene 2

**Timeline notes:** Okay, we've all seen the seaon finale, right? Was it not many levels of fabulous? Anyway, I originally had this set in the middle of season 1, before the Northern Water Tribe episodes, but I was thinking that it actually works okay after the finale too. Maybe even better, from a characterization point of view.

But the difference is that in this fic, Zuko was reunited with his crew after the battle at the North Pole. We'll assume the crew didn't die from Ocean-Spirit-zilla Aang (hard to tell anyway), and that Iroh and Zuko are not considered traitors yet. Basically they're in the same situation as they were before the finale, except now Zuko's more likely to question himself and the purpose of his quest.

Why do this? Why create an AU explanation instead of just setting the fic before the finale? – Katara. I loved her battle and her confidence in the finale and I think I make her pretty confident anyway, so my characterization of her works better post-finale. She's confident in her skills as a bender and is a little more mature than she was before arriving at the North Pole.

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**Act 1 **

**The Sea **

**Scene 2**

Their second full morning lost at sea found Katara and the prince doing what they'd done most of the day before and the day before that: sitting in the tiny boat and existing. Large enough to hold four people at best, it was still crowded with two, being more of a bucket with sides than a proper craft. They had a few flasks of water left but no more food; all in all itmade for a very empty little vessel.

Fights and arguments had filled their first two days, interspersed with a great deal of sleeping, though Katara always seemed to fall asleep first and wake up last. Their initial venom had settled a bit after Zuko pushed her overboard and then jumped in after her. Civility was still beyond them, but they were able to have almost normal conversations now.

Well, Katara was able to have almost normal conversation. Zuko didn't talk much and when he did she rarely liked what she heard. This particular moment was more of the same. They lay sprawled out in the lifeboat, head on opposite sides of the raft, both lazy from the heat and lack of food. Katara was speaking, gesturing grandly as she did so, talking on and on, about this and that. Zuko had his hand up in front of him, staring at it diligently. He was busy slowly creating a flame above his fingertip, moving it from one tip to another, or lighting and moving multiple tiny flames from finger to finger, not unlike the way other people play with their hair.

"So Sokka, being stupid like all boys are, decided it would be better if we used the shorter staff instead, and I trie--_what are you doing?_"

"What?"

"The _fire_ on your fingertips was moving_ in time_ to my words!"

"Are you insane?" he asked, trying to cover the fact that he had been doing exactly that.

"Is my conversation really so terrible that you can't manage common manners?"

"_Yes_."

Katara glowered at him across the boat, arms folded over her chest. From this distance she merely had to move her foot a little to the side to kick his leg, but she didn't think it worth the energy. "I know some people are nicer when you separate them from their jobs, but you're just a beast all of the time, aren't you?"

"_I'm_ a beast?" Zuko's royal sensibilities found this concept more offensive than it should have been, considering the source. It was just no one had ever called him a _beast_ before.

"This coming from a girl raised by penguins," he retorted.

"Penguins have better manners than you do, _your highness_."

"You would know."

"So would you if you looked at this world as anything other than something to mow down!"

_So much for a peaceful, dull morning,_ Zuko thought, hackles rising.

"Are we back to that _again? _It never ends with you does it!"

"I can't believe I'm _hearing_ this!" Katara groaned, bringing her hands to her head. "How can you be so casual about a war that's tearing the world apart!"

"The war is old news little girl. In case you penguin progeny can't keep a proper calendar, let me be the first to inform you that it's been going on fora long timenow."

"You really do only care about yourself, don't you," she said, glaring at him and the arrogance with which he dismissed everything that wasn't related to his precious _Avatar._

_He probably didn't even know Aang's name,_ she thought sourly.

"I don't care about you, if that's what you're asking."

_Hardy har har_. _I don't like you either._

"Then why'd you try to rescue me?" she demanded, more to have something to say back than because she really cared.

Zuko looked away and muttered under his breath. "Becauseofmyuncleyoustupidlittlegirl."

"What?"

"It's nothing!"

Katara couldn't help it. He was squirming and all of a sudden she was intrigued.

"No, really, what?"

"Alright, fine," he snapped. "The reason is that sometimes, on the barest occasion, talking to you is like talking to my uncle."

Katara blinked at this odd comparison. She pondered briefly back to the old man she'd seen around Zuko, the same old firebender who'd confronted Zhoa at the oasis. The most she could remember was that he had seemed less annoying than the boy in front of her.

"He's an annoying old man," Zuko continued, "But I find myself obligated to him. And at rare moments I even feel something that might _vaguely_ resemble a positive feeling in his general direction."

_Well that was a whopping big lie_, Zuko thought as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He did realize everything his uncle had done for him and he was completely grateful for his presence on the journey. But_ she_ didn't need to know about it. _She_ could believe whatever she wanted or whatever he felt like feeding her.

"How big of you," was all Katara could think to say, not without sarcasm.

"The point is," Zuko said in a rush, deciding he wanted this conversation over, "he'd fire-lash me if I murdered someone through negligence of action. It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"But... you just said I reminded you of him."

"That was a completely separate comment, and intended as an insult!"

Katara could only gape. "When you were growing up, did anyone ever tell you you're like a wind-up doll?"

"If anyone dared I'd burn their tongue right out of their mouth."

"Now I know you're lying."

"Why? I could burn you right now," he threatened, sitting up a little straighter.

"And I could drown you first," she returned.

"I'm faster."

"Look around."

"I could burn the raft instead," he pointed out. "Even a master waterbender would eventually drown, and you're not that good yet."

Katara's eyes blazed and for a moment she almost considered doing it: taking a wave of frosted seawater and tossing him into the drink just to remind him who'd beaten who the last time. Bastard thought he was _so_ wonderful at bending. If it hadn't been for Aang's compassionate nature...

At the last second she reigned in her temper, and leaned back to smirk instead. This wasn't unlike fighting with her brother at times. She could be the calm one. He wasn't so scary.

"Spitefulness is a sign of immaturity, you know."

"Says the little girl."

"Stop calling me a little girl!" she yelled, instantly forgetting her plan to be mature. All day she'd ignored it, but enough was enough. She was getting so _sick_ and_ tired_ of being called by that insulting, patronizing phrase!

"You shriek like one," Zuko replied coolly, sensing a sore spot and deciding to poke at it. "How old are you? Eleven?"

"I'm fourteen and you know it!"

"How should I know that?"

"You've got _eyes_ don't you?"

"I wouldn't waste them looking at you for long enough to think about it."

"I hate you," she snarled.

"Remind me on the imaginary day that I start to care."


	4. The Sea: Scene 3

**Act 1**

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**The Sea**

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**Scene 3**

It was night again, and Katara was bored. The slapping of the water against the hull was making it hard for her to fall asleep, though she'd been trying for what felt like an hour. The enthusiastically bright moon was also up, which she loved to see but was not, unfortunately, condusive to getting any sleep.

"I met the king of Omashu once, you know," Katara began, too awake to keep trying anymore but too tired to practice her waterbending.

"So?" She knew he would be awake. Vampire. So far she hadn't caught him sleeping in the three days they'd been stranded. "I met him when I was six."

"Oh." She laid her back down, disappointed. Then she sat forward again. "But that doesn't make any sense! Why wouldn't the two rulers have tried to kill each other? I mean, if they were near enough for a child like you to meet him?"

"It was a formal meeting between dignitaries." Zuko's voice couldn't have been more bored. "How should I know what it was for? I was six. Could've been about bridges for all I knew. Or tarriffs. Monarchs do this sort of thing all the time."

"Meet face to face when their countries are at war?"

"It was a temporary cease-fire, lasted a couple years when I was a boy."

"Oh. I didn't realize."

"I'm not surprised," he said dismissively. "You'll only hurt your little brain trying to understand something as mature as the negotiations between kingdoms."

"Would you stop it with the age stuff?" she grumbled, barely even offended anymore. It turned out Zuko's imagination when it came to insults was fairly limited; he could only seem to think of three or four subjects to tease her for. She was already long bored of this one. "My brain is not little, as you should've realized by now, and I bet I'm more travelled than you are."

Zuko actually laughed at that; his was a harsh, barking laugh that sounded jarring in the dead night air. "I don't think so. I've been looking for the Avatar across half the world for over two years."

Despite herself, Katara's voice caught. "You've been doing this...since you were fourteen?"

In the starlight she could see Zuko suddenly scowling. "Don't sound so surprised. This is my mission."

But Katara was surprised, and she was sure it showed on her face. "But, but that's so young."

"You're fourteen and you're out here."

A part of her was pleased he'd finally acknowledged her, but the other part—

"My mother is dead and my father's gone. We had no reason not to go. But you have a family." She said this last part with a bit of a tone. She and Sokka didn't really have parents any more, despite the fact that her dad was alive somewhere. But everyone knew the Fire Lord was healthy and thriving in his gilded palace. And there was that old chubby man he called his uncle-- the point was Zuko had _family_. You just don't leave family to traipse around the world. He must have sensed the recrimination in her words, because his reply was cutting and cold.

"My family," he sneered, and somehow she knew he wasn't talking about the old firebender now, "is none of your business. It will _never_ be your business. We can talk out here until the hunger takes us both and even in our final conscious moments—when yours is the last human face I'll ever see— even then I will _never_ speak to you about my _family_."

Feeling thoroughly scolded, though she didn't know exactly what for, Katara turned away from churlish prince and decided that even pretended sleep was better than his company.

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**What follows might end up being longer than the actual chapter, for which I apologize.**

I received the following review for last chapter:

**"Sorry. I've been reading a lot of these fictions and the common theme seems to be: "Helpless Katara couldn't bend her way out of a wet paper sack." I got enough of the helpless and useless heroine theme reading Inuyasha fanfictions."**

:gasp:shock:awe: Being as I loathe the very same sort of behavior in fanfiction about our heroine, it is to my great horror that the accusations most foul have been laid at my feet. :gasp:no: I feel I must address them, or my writer's spirit will not rest! Bear with me, good readers, as I attempt to do so.

Since these might be questions all my readers have asked themselves, I decided to include the answers here.

**"Katara's a waterbender. Why can't she just separate the salt from the water for the purpose of drinking it?"**

I've considered this fanon-popular ability, and rejected it on two reasons:

1) Since water-salt ratio in ocean water is usually in solution (at least, I'm pretty sure it is), it would be very complex for a bender to separate water from salt at a chemical level. It's not like sifting out dirt or sand, which are solid and separate. Artificial desalination is complex. We've never seen it done by benders on the show nor heard it suggested.

2) It might be do-able, most likely for the water tribe healers if anyone, but if so I don't think Katara has the knowledge or the skill yet to do so. Not only did she appear to focus on bending for fighting purposes for her time with the Northen Water Tribe, but I think the kind of refined detail that would require is something that someone as young as Katara just wouldn't be experienced enough for.

**"Why not catch fish in a water bubble and have Zuko cook them?"**

Simple: the surface of the middle of the ocean is not like a lake or a river. Fish of the size a person could eat do not generally surface very often once you go more than 20 miles out from the coast. For all Katara and Zuko know (since they can't see land anywhere), they might be hundreds of miles out. At that distance the ocean depth is a couple of _miles_ and the only stuff you're likely to see at the surface are the rare pod of migratory porpoises and whales. Maybe a school of jellyfish (which people have been able to survive off before, eww), but even that would be against the odds. Could Katara jump into the water, swim down, capture fish, and bring them back up? Maybe if she had scuba gear, air tanks, and a very long rope. And if she knew that there was a school beneath them right at that moment. Given a basic fishing pole, line, and time, you might catch one fish after several days on the surface. And it could very well break your only line and slip away. Either way it would require a lot of patience, because the ocean is very large and fish are very small. They'd probably starve first.

But that begs the question: couldn't Zuko and Karata kill and eat a dolphin? --No. Because I :heart: dolphins so none are being harmed in the creation of this fic. Also, even if they did happen to see some (unlikely), I really don't think they're competent enough to manage it.

**"Why not employ a little energy and push the boat. Sure they are in the middle of NOwhere but they'd get SOMEwhere faster if she'd remember that she's a gee-golly waterbender!"**

Bending does make you tired after a while. Katara would have to move huge amounts of water to push the boat very far—water that is not stationary like a lake or snow. Water that is constantly moving and changing. Sure she could do it. Maybe even for a few hours. But where would she push them? They have no charts or compass. Say she is strong enough to bend the water for as long as three hours straight (which would be impressive). Say that takes them within 50 miles of land. After she collapses of complete exhaustion (she's also weak from starvation), they get caught in a current or a gust that carries them out another 600 miles in the wrong direction in the same three hour span it took to get them half as far by bending. This is why with all our modern technology people with GPSs and charts and radar still manage to get completely lost on the water.

**Thank you for reading this fic and these notes; I hope some of your questions may have been answered! Your guys' reviews are encouraging and appreciated, always.**


	5. The Sea: Scene 4

_**Why can't Zuko & Katara navigate by the stars?**_

**Long answer:** will be mentioned later.

**Short answer:** even if they wanted to, _they don't have so much as an oar_. Much less sails or an engine. Navigation is impossible if you can't control your own movement. So the question is moot for now.

**Notes:** Okay, here's another part. This one might be a bit rougher because I didn't rewrite it as stringently as the other chapters. I've had several scenes written ahead of time (some posted to livejournal), but I've been fleshing them out for posting here. This scene was already description-heavy rather than dialogue-heavy, though, and I only felt like adding a few bits and a paragraph here and there.

**Warning: **I have zero medical expertise. None. Don't even try to apply scientific knowledge to what you're about to read. Just go with it. Like movie!science. It doesn't have to make sense, it just has to fit with the plot.

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**Act 1**

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**The Sea**

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**Scene 4**

He hadn't told her about the wound.

On the sixth day she woke to find Zuko shivering on the floor of the raft, covered in sweat. The sight hit Katara like a punch to the chest: _wrong wrong wrong. _The night before he'd been fine, complaining of a headache and hunger and thirst, but otherwise fine. She'd been feeling all those as well: the sun cooked them in the day; the breezes chiled them at night; the water was close to being gone. But they'd both been okay: bickering and hoping for rescue just like all the other days.

At least... she'd believed him to be okay. Now something was horribly wrong and she didn't know what had changed. He'd argued with her less, but Katara thought he was finally tired like herself. She'd thought... Surely there would have been some obvious sign...

_He's too pigheaded to let it show until it kills him_, she realized. Drawing in her breath, she began pushing at his clothes, moving the material from his arms and torso, then his ankles and calves. He was weak almost to the point of immobility, and couldn't have fought her even if he realized what she was doing. Katara was just grateful he'd been stripped of his armor by the pirates; she wasn't sure she would have been able to get it off him.

Eventually she found it: the lasceration was as short as Katara's finger, just a thin slice on his leg. It should have been nothing—shallow, very little blood, quick to scab over. Instead it was a wrinkled, pussy mess, a thin mouth of infection on otherwise unmarred flesh. Through the skin Katara could see red tendrils snaking outward, spreading over nearly his entire leg.

"Oh my god," she whispered. Hastily she scrambled around for the water flask, screwing off the cap. Focusing all her attention on her bending, she drew out the last of the fresh water and elevated it above Zuko's wound. There was a glow, slow and steady, as the purple and red distorion lightened to soft pink skin, and the puss infected opening smoothed over, absorbing the water with it. Breathing heavily from the effort and concentration, Katara moved up to his side, lightly slapping his face to get him to wake up and look at her.

He reacted, but too slowly. His eyes were glazed and unable to focus. He started to speak.

"Where's the anchor? He took it from--"

"Zuko! Look at me!"

He wasn't listening, just mumbling. About the Avatar, about his greedy sister _(he had a sister?)_, about his uncle. He wouldn't shut up and it was starting to make her panic.

"Focus, Zuko, focus! You were cut, and it got infected. I healed it but the infection might have gone into your blood. I don't know what to do!"

"We need to dock in Pisoh, there's a woman who's hunting—"

He must be delirious. She'd never seen a delirious person before. But if heatstroke was affecting him on top of blood poisoning... "Zuko, focus on my voice. You're in danger. In less than a few days you will die. Unless we get medicine immediately. I can last another week but you will die much sooner, Zuko."

Why was she telling him this? It's not like she could do anything about it. It's not like his being lucid would get them to land any faster.

"I tried to tell him you can't send a whole garrison to die. Not for ashes. I tried—"

"_You_ are the one in danger, Zuko," Katara nearly shouted. It didn't matter if she couldn't do anything; she at least had to have him sane. If he was going to die he was going to die awake and aware. With a sound mind and an annoying temper just like always.

"You have to listen to me. There is no garrison. There are_ no ashes_. There's nothing like that here! You're in the middle of the ocean with me, Katara, and you've got a fever. You're hallucinating!"

The shout seemed to reach him, because for a moment he met her eyes and she could see lucidity in them. "Maybe I'm supposed to die out here. Maybe in the end he sent me to die."

"Who are you talking about?" But her throat felt dry, because maybe she already knew. Maybe they'd all known for a long time but never discussed it. Who could order a prince of the Fire Nation to go on a journey with no promise of return? She couldn't help answering her own question, awed horror tinging her voice.

_"The Fire Lord."_

No. Families don't do that. Families don't _do_ that to you.

Zuko grabbed her shoulder, pulling her face close to his. His breath was old and tasted like salt and charcoal. "Uncle you have to control Zula. She's mad. When we were children, the dogs—with the—you remember the dogs, don't you? She's mad. It's worse than I told you I'm sorry I lied but you can't let her have it Uncle."

"I'm not—"

"Uncle please! You have to control, you have to—to—Zula—"

Katara gave in; if he wasn't seeing her now then there was nothing she could do.

"Okay, Zuko," she said, slowly peeling his gripping fingers from her arm, patting his shoulder with her other hand. "I'll take care of it. Everything will be okay. Your, uh, your unlce's got everything taken care of."

Zuko passed out at her words, and she felt dirty for them.


	6. The Sea: Scene 5

_This is it. Next time, it's Act 2: The Fisherman!_

**Act 1**

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**The Sea**

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**Scene 5**

If Katara could measure time in an hourglass she would have said they were out at sea for days after Zuko's infection pulled him into fever.

She would have stared at each falling grain and wondered which grain would mark the prince's death, and which would mark hers.

She would have been able to cling to the illusion of reaching out and turning the hourglass topsy-turvy one more time, setting back the clock and preventing their deaths one more hour.

She would have been able to hold time in her hands and chuck it into the damn sea where it couldn't hurt them anymore.

But Katara did not have an hourglass.

All she had was the sun and the moon, and the sun told her that it was the next morning by the time they were found.


	7. The Fisherman: Scene 1

Notes: The second arc of the story, in which Katara is feeling the mutual victimhood (and the heatstroke), but that only lasts till Zuko pisses her off again. Meanwhile, do antibiotics exist in Avatarverse? Tricky question. Thank you for reading this far, and expect shorter scenes interspersed with longer scenes as in Act 1. The rapid updating as of late will slow a bit, because I need to work out continuity details before I get too much further along, or risk digging myself a hole and falling into it.

**Act 2**

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**The Fisherman**

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**Scene 1**

The fisherman looked down at them from the deck of his little ship. The sight was a sad one: a bucket that could barely be called a boat on its better days, filled with two teenagers brown from the sun and hagard from starvation. The girl leaned against one side of the lifeboat, and she barely raised her head to blink at their rescuer. Sprawled across the bottom of the boat was a boy, head in the girl's lap, looking more than a little dead already.

"Is he dead?" the fisherman asked. The girl shook her head. He couldn't tell if she was crying or not.

"Okay then, I'll take him up first."

With a sigh the fisherman stepped from the rope ladder into the lifeboat. He leaned over to hoist the unconscious young man onto his shoulders.

"He doesn't have his armor anymore," the girl said. The fisherman gave her a perplexed look.

"...Well he's not likely to find any replacements onbard."

"He'll be mad when he wakes up," she replied.

"If this kid wakes up," the fisherman muttered, glancing at the pale features of the boy as if he doubted it could happen, "he'll be better off without armor."


	8. The Fisherman: Scene 2

Note: For those of you confused by the previous chapter-- Katara's lines were not supposed to make sense really. They were actually two separate statements in her head, though it comes out as babbling nonsense. She may not have blood poisoning but she's been out in the sun a long while too. Sidenote: "le petit mort" is the best innuendo metaphor ever. Really.

**Act 2**

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**The Fisherman**

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**Scene 2**

In his dreams, Zuko was always scarred.

In this dream he was a boy again, nine years old, attending his first carnival outside the palace.

His manservant was marching in front of him and guards hovered at his sides. Colors swirled and flashed in the evening air, and faces of every nation wandered by him. The dream was pulled from his memory, but warped itself as it manifested. His first midsummer night's festival he'd been five, and there had been only Fire Nation civilians.

The crowd carried them forward but Zuko made them stop at a booth, because behind the display was a young woman dressed in blue and white.

"I'm looking for something," Zuko said, little nose high in the air. "Tell me where it is."

The woman became a girl, and the girl said, "Bobbing for apples costs half a copper, you get three tries."

The girl pushed forward a barrel of water with a floating apple, and waited.

"There's only one, how am I supposed to get it?" the prince whined.

The girl strode forward, grabbed his chin roughly in her hand, and bent to look him in the eye. "We do not look down our noses at the fortune given to us," she snapped.

Prince Zuko tried to look around for his servants and his guards, but they were gone. There was only the girl and booth, and he was afraid.

"Your fingers are hurting me," he whimpered, and couldn't remember if he was five or nine this time, or if he'd ever been sixteen.

She must have taken pity on him, because her grip softened and her other hand joined it, closing around his scarred cheeks. She frowned again, and told him sternly, "You'll have to eat my bones one day, Prince Zuko."

He just wanted an apple. He just wanted to go back to the palace. He didn't want bones, which would hurt her coming out and scrape his throat going down.

"But they're your bones!" he replied, voice high and naïve.

The girl shook her head, "They're made of water, Zuko, and one day they'll all pour out of me and become bones again. You'll eat them, and then you will be the Fire Lord."

"Is that what my father did?"

"That is what all kings and queens must do."

"This is what a leader must do," Iroh agreed, and Zuko turned to see his uncle. He found himself looking down at the man instead of up.

"I am not a scavenger, uncle."

"It is not savagery to feed off the strength of your enemies, my nephew." Iroh gestured to the girl beside the booth, and Zuko recognized her now.

"But Uncle, her bones are made of salt and her blood is made of brine. She would be as a poison to me."

Katara grinned, and whispered lightly in his ear, "Don't worry, it is only a little death."

"Blood and bones are not little!" Zuko shouted, and shoved her away, though she was laughing at him and he didn't want to grasp why. He turned on his uncle, fury filling him that he could not explain.

"It is not little and it is not nothing! I am not a scavenger, and I will not destroy others to have what is already mine by birthright!"

Iroh sighed, and shook his head. "Then you will be just a dog, and your sister will steal your skin and eat _your_ bones."

* * *

When Zuko sprang to life again, he woke in a bed with coarse sheets and heavy blankets. The ceiling above him was low and made of wood. He sat up like a spring-board, gaze careening over the tiny room. A lock of loose hair fell in his eyes, and he brushed it back with irritation. Fuck his leg hurt. His whole body hurt.

"Where the fuck am I?"

Maybe the ocean had been a nightmare. Maybe his uncle would come striding in any minute now to offer him tea.

"What's going on here?" he asked the empty air around him.


	9. The Fisherman: Scene 3

The dreaded obligatory dream sequence is over! Hah. Glad you liked that-- yep, I got a little too symbolism-happy with it. I actually meant it to be _more _weird and_ more_ random when I started, but my inner lit geek kept fighting to the surface and demanding that I let it out to play. So there were apples and bones. Just a note, though: the dream was intended as a mood interlude, not a plot device, so take everything said in the dream with a grain of salt (so to speak.) Dreams may be filled with symbols and images plucked from our subconscious, but they do not usuallyreflect reality and they do not predict the future.

**Act 2**

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**The Fisherman**

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**Scene 3**

Katara had decided the fisherman wasn't really a fisherman at all. His boat was eqipped for it, but he had no crew and little bait. More to the point, he never actually fished. She had to keep calling him "the fisherman," though, because he refused to give her any other name.

"I have to call you something."

"You don't, actually, but do what you like."

His casual dismissal to "do what she liked" was precisely the problem in this whole arrangement, Katara felt. She didn't know if they were guests or prisoners. He wouldn't tell her his name, so she had to make up one for him. He wouldn't tell her why he didn't have a crew or what he was doing with a fishing yacht this far out in the middle of the ocean, so she had to try to reason it out. He wouldn't tell her where they were going, so she had to guess that too. All she did know was that he had two kids about her age, and it was only out of fatherly pity that he picked them up at all.

"It was against my better judgement. But I'm soft-hearted, and I'd like to think a passing stranger would rescue my kids if they're ever stupid enough to get themselves lost at sea. I don't expect that to happen because they're smarter than you two," and here Katara frowned because really, it hadn't been _her_ fault, but she wasn't about to argue outright with her rescuer, "but it doesn't hurt to give Lady Fortune some padding, you understand."

Katara had just frowned even more and kept her mouth shut. Only her gratefulness at being alive was allowing her to keep her temper through the insults. Despite the lack of outright information, however, she did manage to learn a few things during the days that Zuko was in a fever. She remembered that the first day they had met up with another vessel and a doctor had visited herself and the prince. She didn't recall much of those blurry hours, but Katara figured it was significant that they weren't totally alone in the ocean. It was most likely that the other boat had come from the wherever it was they were heading, and that meant something too. She started to compile a list in her mind of what she knew about the fisherman:

Physically he looked like he could be either Earth or Water tribes, and his boat was a mishmash of different cultures, as if it'd passed from owner to owner.

He was probably not a bender, based on his expression when she practiced.

He didn't like the Fire Nation, but also didn't talk politics much, so she wasn't sure how far his dislike extended. The only reason she knew he didn't like the Fire Nation was that he seemed to frown at the direction of Zuko's make-shift room fairly often, and he hinted that the only reason he'd rescued them was that Katara wasn't pale-skinned too.

He had some strong reason _not_ to be taking passengers, and it had nothing to do with food rations.

And the last, most disturbing thing she knew: He had no idea who Zuko was.

He had no idea, because Katara hadn't told him. And even though she was under no obligation to tell a mysterious stranger that he'd accidentally rescued the only son of the Fire Lord--or under any obligation to hide that information on Zuko's behalf--Katara was disturbed because the cold wall of the fisherman's secrecy hinted of something ominous over the horizon. He wasn't supposed to be taking passengers and he wouldn't tell them their ultimate destination. Warning bells were ringing louder and louder in Katara's ears with each passing wave, and all those warning bells brought her thoughts back to Zuko.

Her reluctant companion was an inherently dangerous person. Dangerous as himself and deadly as a member of the Fire Nation ruling family.

The fisherman's mysterious motives and tight-lipped behavior told Katara that maybe, just maybe, _he_ could be dangerous too.

She was sitting in the middle of a powderkeg and as soon as the jerk woke and opened his mouth the whole thing might explode.

* * *

Wow, 100 reviews! I love how sweet and responsive the Avatar fandom can be-- you really know how to spoil a girl. So here's another one for you. We'll be chugging along, chugging along in the next few days. Expect several updates, especially since school starts on Friday and after that my fandom life ends. Well, almost. ;)

This scene I'm not as pleased with as some others, but that's alright because I'm very happy with the next one. Can't win 'em all, etc.


	10. The Fisherman: Scene 4

**Act 2**

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**The Fisherman**

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**Scene 4**

It was mid-afternoon when Zuko hobbled out the cabin door onto the deck for the first time. From their places at the wheel and port railing, respectively, the fisherman and Katara turned their heads to look at him.

"You're awake," the stranger said. His brown eyes wereplain as stones, and shaggy brown hair hung almost to his shoulders. His clothes were poor but clean and utilitarian. Zuko also noticed they hung off a frame tall as a tree and muscles enough to lift a tank. Probably born a farmer, the prince decided.

"You're getting over a fever. Go back to bed, boy."

Boy? No one called him "boy" except his father. Rescue or not, this sort of impudence stopped here and _now._ Zuko opened his mouth to berate the man, but caught himself at Katara's expression.

She now stood halfway between them, sitting near the edge of the boat and glancing back and forth. The girl looked almost _nervous_. How bizarre. And she was... wringing her hands. The young prince suddenly changed his mind.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked instead. Uncle Iroh hated it when Zuko swore. Uncle Iroh, however, was not here to complain.

The fisherman was unruffled. He stared flatly at the fire nation boy, hands guiding the wheel of the boat as smoothly as ever. "I, young man, am the person responsible for the air you're breathing right this moment."

"Do you have a name?"

"Only the one my mother gave me. But until you turn into her, you'll have to do without."

"I already tried," Katara said, cutting off Zuko's next response. "He's very...private."

Zuko looked back and forth from the girl and their rescuer. He considered pressing the issue, then decided to try a different tactic. "Where are you taking us?"

"I tried that too," Katara said. The man, for his part, said nothing.

Zuko snorted derisively, but otherwise ignored her. "Don't waste my time," he said to the man. "I can turn around right now and hunt through your cabin until I find your charts and your logs."

This time, the man laughed. Katara jumped in startlement, staring at him with wide eyes. Zuko wondered momentarily what was up with her, but decided he didn't really care.

"Do you think you can boy?" the fisherman replied. "Please, do look. If you think I didn't stash them the second I dragged your pale carcass on board then you deserve to lose the time and energy you'll be wasting."

Tongues of fire began to collect around Zuko's fists. He would not tolerate being laughed at and he would _not_ be blindly held prisoner by some Earth Kingdom vagabond.

Zuko took one threatening step forward and fell on his face.

"Stupid boy," the fisherman said. "I told him he should be in bed."

He made no indication to move, so Katara sighed and leanedover to grab Zuko by the armpits and drag him down into the cabin again.


	11. The Fisherman: Scene 5

**Act 2**

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**The Fisherman**

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**Scene 5**

He'd woken up (in the main cabin this time, not the aft bedroom) to the curious site of the water bending girl sitting on the floor beside his bunk, hunched over a book. Her profile was at the same height as his, so that when Zuko opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the place where her ear curved into her jaw and cheek.

He gritted his teeth, and cleared his throat. She turned to look at him with a smile. Good god, why was she _smiling?_

"He has _books!_" she whispered. Books. Zuko was thrilled.

"Why are you whispering?" he asked, deliberately loud. The smile dropped a little, and her eyebrows pulled together. Then the smile was back full-on again.

"You can't ruin this for me. He's got a tiny library in here! Actual books, not scrolls. I guess it makes sense because he's obviously been out on the ocean for a while, but he's got as many here as we have in our entire village!"

Zuko thought about the fact that his father's library was the _size_ of her entire village. The memory did not make him happy. The last time he saw it he was a foot shorter and young enough to still imagine all the answers could be found there.

It probably wasn't even as big as he remembered. In fact he doubted he'd even be impressed if he saw it now.

She probably would though. _Barbarian._

"It's a miracle you even know how to read," he spat.

Katara just grinned even wider. "You're jealous you didn't find it first."

Zuko flopped his head back down on the bunk and glared at the ceiling instead. "I really could not care less."

"Well," she continued, voice high and gratingly cheerful, "if you'd _bothered_ to wake up earlier you could have had first choice of the books. But instead you thought it would be more rewarding to yell at everyone then faint. Very amusing display. Very mature."

"Yeah, I _was_ sleeping," he grouched, refusing to repeat the word "faint" since such a word could never seriously be applicable to himself. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I carried you all the way to this stupid bunk, Mister."

"And?"

She glared at him. "And then I got distracted by a book so I've been sitting here reading! You're much better boat company when you've fainted."

"Passed _out_."

"Whatever."

* * *

**Notes:**

This is the last one for now-- I have to rewrite the next two before posting them, as they're still mostly dialogue without context. So who knows when they'll be up. Tomorrow? Next week? Whenever I feel up to writing them.

Two people asked if this was a Zutara fic. Hm... let me put it this way: This is my non-Zutara Zutara fic and my obligatory torture!Zuko angst fic and my mental song fic all rolled together. Not with any actual songs, though, just the ones playing in my head as I go.

Caeria's review said that Zuko is not allowed to have any dignity. I just want to say that this is absolutely true. I love Zuko's character, thus it is my duty as a fanfiction writer to torture him. Repeatedly.

FANFICTION IS PAIN. I repeat this to myself often, and find it a most inspiring mantra.

**Boat facts:** Okay, I am playing really free and loose with facts here, because I know a lot about sailing boats but not that much about fishing boats. Nor, really about what powers the iron ships in Avatarverse, except that they're some sort of engine. But assume that this is a fishing boat, approxminately 40 feet long, with bunks underneath for crewmembers to sleep in, and a small kitchen area with a table, and a bathroom. And at the stern of the boat (beneath the stern deck) is an aft bedroom on one side and a large storage area for equipment on the other.  
Think vaguely of the boat in The Perfect Storm... only not really because it's been years since I watched that movie so I don't remember what it looked like. Either way, this is a boat that is powered by an engine so it could be steered and guided by one person alone (though he'd need help docking it) as opposed to a sail boat which would require two people at that length, and he can set a course while he sleeps at night. There! I hope that was helpful, though I'm sure it just left you guys even more confused. I know I am, a little.


	12. The Fisherman: Scene 6

The good news! I'm over my writing block for the next few chapters of this. Bad news! I've got total writer's block for my other fic, Culture Clash. Anyway, on we go. On y va!

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**Scene 6**

When Zuko woke up the next time—he'd fallen asleep again mere minutes after their last little quarrel—it was the next afternoon. Katara was also inside, reading again, and she looked over at him from her sitting place near the cabin entrance. She watched as he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and managed to pull his hair back into its usual ponytail. Having seen for a few days now how strange he looked without it, she was almost greatful to see something familiar about his appearance.

She waited patiently to see what he'd do next, and was not disappointed. After a few seconds Zuko shoved himself off the bunk and stood, resolution crossing his features.

"Hey," she said, stopping him before he could make his way toward the deck.

"What now?" Katara sucked in her breath, calming her impulse to snipe at his tone.

"You should know, he thinks you're a soldier. I told him your name was Iroh. That's your uncle's name, right?"

Zuko's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, scrutinizing her.

"Why," said the prince slowly, "would you tell him that?"

"I thought… I thought that…" What did he want her to say? That on some level she actually trusted her sworn enemy over a total stranger? That she was afraid for both their lives if their host knew who he was carrying?

Zuko looked her up and down and made a snide _hmph_ sound, then turned back toward the cabin steps.

_What are you doing?_ she asked herself, looking at his back. _You're lying for a firebender. And worse, one who doesn't evenappreciate what you're doing_.

"Alright," he muttered, not even speaking in her direction but somehow managing to make it clear he was talking to her. "I suppose my name is Iroh then."

Katara watched him ascend to the deck, then went to the bottom of the steps. She didn't go outside, but stood near the cabin entrance listening.

The conversation above was muddled, but some pieces seeped through. She could tell Zuko was demanding to know their destination again (in this Katara wished him all her luck), among other things. After some back and forth—most of Zuko's sentences being louder and easier to discern than the fisherman's— she heard some shuffling, the sound of something banging like a door, and then the clear statement:

"If you want to know where we are, figure it out for yourself boy."

Then suddenly Zuko was coming down the steps and Katara jumped back, looking everywhere but at him. He stormed right past and over to the bunks, tossing something metal to the side. She leaned over and picked it up, turning it carefully in both hands.

It was a sextant.


	13. The Fisherman: Scene 7

**Act 2**

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**The Fisherman**

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**Scene 7**

It was evening, just after nightfall, and the two teenagers and the fisherman sat around a small table in the cabin. On the table was the first true "meal" Zuko had had in two weeks. He was trying not to stare longingly at the dishes.

From across the table Katara watched the prince's eyes flicker back and forth, noticing the way he tried to keep his face still and his posture upright.

_So you are human,_ she thought with snide satisfaction. _You do get hungry and you do sit down for a meal with your companions. And somewhere deep in your childhood someone ordered you to keep your elbows off the table like every other kid._

Without bothering to make conversation the fisherman picked up a dish, scraped something brown and bean-like onto his plate, and passed it to Zuko.

"Thank you, _Cerlo._"

"What?" Katara said, looking at the two other diners.

"Your friend thinks he is being clever," the fisherman replied.

"Did you guess his name?" Katara demanded. "How did you figure it out?"

"He didn't," the fisherman said, mouth around a forkful of boiled carrot. Katara looked around to Zuko again, eyebrows raised. Zuko smirked.

"Cerlo is the name of character in Fire Nation legend. He was a man who tried to murder his own queen, and as punishment the gods cursed him to wander the seas forever, burdened with a map that never showed the truth and a compass that never pointed North."

He added, "He went completely mad, of course."

Cerlo munched evenly on his food, matching Zuko's stare.

Katara wondered if this queen would have been Zuko's ancestor. Even if she wasn't, the irony was heavy enough to make Katara's head hurt. And worse, it was_ interrupting_ her dinner.

"Was this Cerlo a prince?" she asked.

Zuko's head snapped around to give Katara one of the most ferocious glares she'd ever seen in her life.

"_No._"

"Pity," she replied, and took another helping of beans.


	14. The Fisherman: Scene 8

Several people asked what a sextant is. Well, a sextant is a... Oh my God! Look, there goes a dictionary! Hurry, catch it! Run!

Seriously though, thanks for all the reviews so far, guys. It's very encouraging, and I really appreciate the thoughtfulness.

**Act 2**

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**Scene 8**

He found her sitting on the bow some hours later. Katara had situated herself on the last corner of open space just behind the prow, cross-legged with the sextant in her hands. She glanced back and forth from the brightly starred sky to the sailor's device, every once in a while adjusting its few knobs and dials.

"You have no idea how to use that thing, do you?"

She looked over her shoulder with a frown. She was frequently frowning at him, Zuko had noticed. But then he'd also noticed that he tended to inspire that reaction in people.

"I sort of do."

"'Sort of,' she says. Don't your people take rustic exhibitions into supposedly 'uncharted lands' on your little yearly fishing trips? Isn't this all part of your people's--" he made a dismissive gesture, "--coming of age training?"

Katara glowered at the prince and swallowed a distasteful sensation in her throat.

"The _women_ of our tribe weren't allowed on our seasonal great whale hunts," she replied, "of which there hasn't been one _anyway_ for the last two years."

Zuko had her figured well enough by now to know she'd tell him all about why, even if he didn't care.

Then again it's not like he had anything _else_ to do.

"The men of our tribe are at war with the Fire Nation, something I'm sure you remember from your friendly visit to my village. If we'd stayed at home Sokka would've started learning star navigation from one of the grandfathers when he turned sixteen." Katara looked away and mumbled, "I was going to learn it from him."

"So... you can't do anything?"

"I, at least, can tell my own constellations!" she snapped, jumping to her feet. "But we're not exactly in the Southernmost ocean, are we? Out here, without star charts _or_ trade currents charts to compare to, we might as well be in the capital city of the Fire Nation for all the sky can show me."

"Some use you are," Zuko sighed, and Katara swore she could almost _feel_ the hair on the back of her neck rise. His ability to infuriate her was nothing short of boundless.

"What about you! You were at sea for years, you couldn't even be bothered to learn basic night navigation?"

"I'm a prince," he stated, as if this explained everything.

"Spoiled brat," she muttered, and stalked off to the cabin to return the sextant to Cerlo. "Too busy learning to kill people to absorb anything practical."


	15. The Fisherman: Scene 9

You've seen an uncommon number of updates in the last few days, it's true. And it will be slowing down in the near future as school has started. Only two quarters left until I have my BA!

But the truth is I had a lot of this written before I started posting on and I've written more since posting in addition to rewriting and prepping stuff, so I was thinking, hey if I've got the chapters mostly done and laying around, why NOT post them? The whole artificial waiting period to build suspence thing never really worked for me.

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**Scene 9**

A monotony of routine developed on Cerlo's tiny ship now that both passengers were awake and on their way toward being healthy again. For the most part Cerlo--as they were both now in the habit of calling him--ignored his guests entirely, going on about his business as if they weren't even there. Every day his craft carried them further toward his uknown goal and farther from the feeling of security. The longer the twoyoungbenders went without knowing their destination, the greater their curiosity and anxiety grew, although both tried to hide it.

Always hovering in the background was the possibility of forcing Cerlo to give them information. However, the chances of keeping a man like him incapacitated on his own boat with anything short of serious injury or murder were low, and neither Zuko or Katara had the stomach to brutally attack a person who'd pulled them from the brink of death. So they slipped into a pattern of waiting, each sure in the knowledge that wherever they did end up, they were capable of defending themselves if necessary. Beyond that, they could,and would,do nothing.

Katara passed her days in a pool of books and waterbending. She read anything she could for the simple novelty of having them readily available, and when she wasn't reading she was practicing her bending. She was limited by the small size of the boat, but it allowed her to focus on strengthening her basics and improving her concentration.

Prince Zuko also spent his time training and reading. It took two days of boredom before his resolve cracked and he picked up a book, but once he did so he found reading to be much like he remembered: engrossing, but ultimately pointless. It might remind him of his upringing, but it wouldn't catch him the Avatar and it wouldn't get him off Cerlo's boat.

Training, he found, was a better way to pass his hours. His typical firebending exercises were impossible if he wanted them to stay afloat very long, so he instead practiced his hand-to-hand. Zuko put himself through every kata he could remember for knife-fighting, sword-fighting, weaponless combat. He even practiced firebending techniques without igniting flames. After the first week of exercise and heavy meditating he could feel the positive effects: all the weakness from hunger and illness began to drain away, and he was sure that before long he'd be back to his normal strength.

It was an afternoon halfway into the second week after Zuko woke that Katara approached him about bending.


	16. The Fisherman: Scene 10

This chapter took awhile. Descriptions are so much harder than dialogue-- I go over and over them, always editing and revising phrases and changing my mind. As a result, this chapter is also physically a bit longer. Actually... a lot longer. :) Oh well, scenes will be as long or as short as they need to be.

I changed my summary recently. The other one was more actiony, but I think this one better captures the spirit of the fanfic.

Thanks go out to **Vicki So** and **Red November** for their help here. I was stuck over this one part that was driving me nuts, and both ladies provided useful insights. So as a favor to me, dear readers, go enjoy their fics and give them even more reviews!

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**Scene 10**

He'd been standing on the bow deck, putting himself through the motions of a blade exercise. Warmth from the sun heated his skin from neck to hip bones, and the beginnings of sweat gathered between his shoulders. His hands loosely gripped two butter knives for daggers, swinging them in graceful arcs around his body then shooting them outward to open the belly of his enemy. Sometimes the enemy was Zhao, sometimes it was Zula, sometimes it was the Avatar. More than once in the past Zuko had imagined himself as the opponent, and he would rain down a fury of blows at the intangible vision, demanding his mirror image jump up, move, do anything but _stand there._

_That was a long time ago_, he reminded himself, bringing the butter knife down in a sinuous strike. He hadn't been so masochistic in nearly a year since his injury, choosing instead to focus his anger on more substantial targets. His sister, the vile Commander-cum-Admiral. Eventually the child Avatar was added to the list, although Zuko usually saved that opponent for bending practice; knives and swords were better against Zhao.

For all that Zhao may have been dead, the memory of his grievances against the man could still drive Zuko to an enthusiastically violent work out.

Up, around, across the daggers went. Breathing in and out. A cough--not his. He looked up to see Katara watching him, a stream of water swirling absent-mindedly around one hand.

_Pest_, Zuko thought, determined to ignore her. He was barely even warmed up, much less finished. But once the first kata ended, he found himself turning around and meeting her gaze anyway.

"What do you want?" Besides to interrupt his training.

Katara lifted her chin and said firmly, "I want to spar with you."

Zuko laughed, but it was a mocking laugh. "Are you slow? We can't spar. We'd sink the damn boat." He amended, "Well, _I'd_ sink the boat, anyway."

"I'm not talking about that kind of sparring," she replied, ignoring his jibe. "I was thinking...a smaller scale."

The firebender stood with his hands on his hips, looking unconvinced. Katara sat down about two feet from him, and crossed her legs. "Look," she said, and began to sculpt the water in her hands. After a few seconds the water became a ball of ice. No-- not a ball. A sphere. He didn't have to measure it to know it would be geometrically perfect.

"At what _I_ can do."

Zuko may have been a proud boy, and he may have been a prejudiced boy, and he may even have been a rude boy-- but he was not a timid boy. He was the _Prince of Fire_, and he could do better than merely a sphere.

He dropped to a sitting position and folded his hands together, kitchenware weapons cast aside. Each finger interlocked until his palms were sealed shut, then he began to open them: thumbs first, the pointer fingers, the middle fingers, and so on. As Zuko's hands split a small flame swirled within the cup he formed, gradually taking the shape of petals. It grew and spiraled from a bud to a full bloomed rose, each petal a piece of dancing fire locked into an impossibly still shape.

The effect was so beautiful that for the first time in her life, Katara felt the sting of jealousy when looking at the work of a firebender. But the child of the water tribe was not known for her timidity either, and eagerly moved to counter his bit of nature with her own.

Her sphere of ice melted to water again, collecting in a puddle on the deck before her crossed knees. She brought one hand over the puddle and raised it; following the rise of her hand was a stream, and as it grew in height it separated into other strands. The strands solidified into the many branches of a tree, delicate and sharp. Katara's eyes narrowed. At first it seemed that was the end of her display, but then there was movement, and suddenly the tree lept from barren winter to lush spring. Leaves burst forth from the branches like an explosion of icy shards. Hundreds of leaves, tiny and sparkling, each in a different place and position. There was no pattern to it, no semblance of her control to make it look anything but natural. Katara smiled victoriously at her sculpture, then leveled her eyes at the prince in challenge.

Zuko's response was a raised eyebrow and a distant but calculating visual examination of the ice tree. Then without bothering to comment on it, he presented his hands in front of him, palms up and fingers extended. A blaze fanned upward from the flat of his palms, taking the shape of what looked at first like a many-tiered cake with odd protrusions. But as the seconds passed the design solidified, and Katara soon realized that what she was looking at was a palace.

It was an enormous spectacle of architecture shrunken to merely a foot across, with towers and turrets pointing toward the sky and walls and gates to keep invaders away. Most interestingly, the entire palace was burning: not only because it was an image made with fire, but the burning seemed to actually _be_ part of the design. It took a trick of the eye to really see it, but once she did the detail was exemplary, if the image itself somewhat fearsome and tragic.

"Hmmm," Katara said, and scanned her mind for an appropriate illusion to surpass Zuko's. When she found it she smiled, and once more caressed her ice into liquid form. She stretched the water between her hands like a bar, then began to pull edges in various directions. The shape that formed between her hands was that of a boat-- long and narrow, with the shallow draft that identified all water tribe skiffs. Like his palace Katara impressed in her creation every detail she could picture. But this sculpture she did not freeze-- she held it before her as still as ice but as liquid as the sea around them. The waterbender smirked at the prince, knowing he'd realize that the skill was not in her rendition of the ship, but her ability to create and maintain so complex a form in the constantly malleable medium of water.

Zuko, for once, ignored her smirk. This sparring lesson was proving more challenging than he'd expected, and he had already decided that she would not be allowed to win it. Focusing all his efforts of concentration, he pressed his hands together, one upward and one downward, then pulled them apart slowly, one to heaven and one to earth. Flame spiraled from each hand to meet in the center, and became a staircase both curved and delicate. Zuko took a breath, and added the final touch: tiny figures of flame in human form sprouted from each step, one facing up and one facing down. Then the figures began to walk, until he held a staircase of living flame figures, marching in opposite lines up and down the spiraling steps.

Katara answered this with a horizontal presentation: nine little splashes of water lined themselves up on the deck in front of her, each no taller than her pinky finger. Then as one they began to move in synchronization. She had a miniature line of warriors, each watery figurine moving harmoniously in step with the others in a tiny demonstration of martial art.

Impressed, though unwilling to let her see it, Zuko wracked his brain for what he could possibly show to trump all the others. It had to be inventive, elaborate, and beautiful. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and said, "Last one."

"Agreed," replied Katara, who was beginning to feel the stress of the competition herself. All the muscles in her back and arms felt tight, and she suspected that going on too much longer would give her a headache from the concentration this sort of bending demanded. She watched as Zuko began to create his final display.

The firebender snapped his hands simultaneously, and two medium-sized flames lept into existence in the air between himself and the waterbender. As Zuko focused, the flames flickered into bodies. On his right, a woman. On his left, a man. The man wore part of his hair in a top-knot, and the woman's hair flared outward in long tresses. Suspended behind and below the two figures, Zuko's hands trembled a little. The two fiery bodies bowed in unison, and then they began to _dance._

The dance itself was nothing Katara recognized, but she found herself engrossed. The man and the woman met and separated, swirled and lept. The two figures reeled around one another as if all the joy of existence could be expressed in motion and light. The intricacy of their individual appearances was only heightened with the frenzied twists and whirls. When the parade finally concluded and the fiery dancers ended in a lover's embrace, Katara felt as if she might have seen something no person outside the Fire Nation had ever been privileged to see.

As the flames died Zuko became aware of the world around him again. Sweat was rolling down his back, and he was slightly quick of breath. But despite all this he was inordinately pleased with himself; he met Katara's gaze with something close to a smile.

"Beat that, little girl."

Katara, not so hindered in smiling as he, showed him all her teeth.

"Oh I can," she retorted, as usual her awe giving way quickly to her rivalry.

Taking her cue from the competition, Katara divided her remaining water into two forms. She wiped her mind of everything except the water before her, and they twisted into human shapes, dressed in the garb of the water tribes. The larger was male, the smaller female. Katara felt her smile grow even wider as she imagined them into form. The man she gave long hair, the girl a braid. Then with a deep breath, she bid them to action.

The taller water figure drew up a stream of water and lashed it at the female figure, then brought it in a circle around her. The girl cut through the water, then jumped over and above the man, taking the water and sending it back toward him in a tidal wave. He sent it back to her in a two-pronged assault.

The battle played out between the two waterbenders in rapid attacks and fierce counter-strikes. Ice became water only to be frozen again seconds later. The girl was caught off guard one moment then threw herself into an onslaught the next. It was a duel of waterbenders, and though Prince Zuko did not know it, it was the first duel Katara had ever fought. Pulled from her memory, the liquid warriors bombarded each other until at last the girl was immobilized in a prison of lances. Then the male warrior bowed, and both melted into seawater, finally returning to Katara's tired, gentle sphere.

"Well?" she taunted, eyebrows raised expectantly. Hanging on the word was a larger question, not just of her display but of the entire session, the combination of her efforts and his.

"It was an...interesting exercise," Zuko admitted.

He stood, picking up his knives and gazing at them. He glanced down at her thoughtfully, and something twisted in his expression. His eyes turned into cutting gold stones, and his lips affected a sneer.

"But if you _ever_ interrupt my training again for bending as _pathetic_ as what you just showed me, Waterbending _Master_, you'll discover how 'bad' a companion I can really become."

With a determined turn of his heel, the prince left Katara sitting on the bow, staring at her lap in silence.


End file.
